A Different Type of Stake
by Caremel
Summary: Buffy challenges Spike to go a week without telling her he loves her. To win the bet, she has to make him. Smutty, Spuffy fun with a touch of angst. Set S6 pre-"As You Were".
1. Prologue

Title: A Different Type of Stake

Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Rating: M

Word count: 897

Summary: Buffy challenges Spike to go a week without telling her he loves her. To win the bet, she has to make him. Smutty, Spuffy fun with a touch of angst. Set S6 pre-"As You Were".

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns everything, including my soul.

**Prologue: Monday Morning**

Buffy rolled over, the rough Persian rug beneath her pricking the bare skin of her back and scraping along her buttocks. Finding herself awake, she found that once again the floor had once again proved itself an open and convenient location for her and Spike's nighttime undulations. She propped herself up on her elbow, facing the vampire's prone ivory body. He slept with one arm thrown behind his head, the other lying akimbo across the crimson, satin duvet that incompletely covered them both. Sleeping, he lay utterly still, the perfect corpse, until his eyes suddenly blinked open to see Buffy's resting on him. The sunlight from the tiny window above fell onto her alone, illuminating her tousled hair in a golden halo. He couldn't help but smile at her angelic appearance in the morning light, so out of place in his dank, musty crypt. As she still lounged unmoving, her eyes meeting his, he said the first thing that came into his newly awakened brain: "I love you, Buffy."

At these words, she threw a disappointed look at him and stood up, taking the duvet with her in an attempt at belated, post-coital modesty. She uncovered Spike's nakedness in the process leaving her in a limbo of shame, looking away from the body she had so recently seen, and touched, so much of. "I wish you'd stop saying that, Spike," she said, dropping the coverlet and wrapping herself in a sheet to look for her clothes.

Spike stood up, too, clearly completely lacking for any need to cover himself. "Come on, Slayer, I know you like hearing it. You wouldn't flinch so much if it didn't mean something."

Buffy had located her clothes and was pulling them on hurriedly. "You know, if you really loved me you'd stop when I told you to." When she was dressed, she met his eye. "I bet you couldn't go a week without saying it, just to weird me." She crossed her arms defiantly over her chest.

"Is that a bet, love? 'Cause Spike, he don't back down from a wager." Spike walked up close to her, daring her to step away from him, to back down from the challenge.

"Yeah, it's a bet alright." Buffy seemed surprised by the words coming out of her mouth, but knew there was no way she could yield to Spike's posturing. She rallied to name the terms. "One week, no 'I love you,' no 'I'm in love with you.' You lose, you leave me alone for one whole month, meaning no touching, no sexual innuendo, no nothing. Got it, buster?"

"Sure that's what you want as your _reward_, Goldilocks? " Spike raised his incongruously dark eyebrows at her suggestively. She looked at him impassively, ready for him to put an end to the game. "Anyway, what do _I_ get if I don't say it for a week?"

Buffy pursed her lips, thinking. Then she looked resigned. "Me. One week, whatever you want. Deal?"

Spike smirked, then said, "I get a week, you get a month? Since when is that fair?" Buffy opened her mouth to respond, but he went on. "Fine, deal. The week ends Sunday at midnight."

He held his hand out for them to shake on it. When Buffy put her small hand in his, he pulled her to him. "Just so you know, gambling with me, it's a risky venture, pet," he said, his voice low and his mouth just inches away from hers. "I never lose."

Buffy just cocked an eyebrow at the boast. "How'd you end up owing 40 kittens then, Spike? And I'm not some lame, old fish-head. I'm the slayer, you're a vampire and you know who always wins in that situation." Letting go of his hand and grabbing her jacket, she swept out of the crypt, swinging open the door just wide enough that Spike had to leap out of the way of the sunlight that streamed in.

As she walked away quickly through the empty cemetery, she cursed silently to herself. Why was she betting with Spike? And how had she ended up on the side where she was _trying_ to make him say he loved her? Perhaps getting involved with Spike did not include the wisest choices, but she couldn't back down now. Not without surrendering to Spike's side of the deal and there was no way that she was going to let him take control, even for a week. Especially for a week. She would just have to make him say he loved her soon. At least there would be something to occupy her mind during the long, tedious, and greasy hours at the Doublemeat Palace. Usually she tried not to think about Spike, ever, but this week she'd have to make an exception. As she climbed in her own bedroom window to make Dawn think she'd slept there, she was still concentrating on how to win her bet with Spike.

In his crypt, Spike stood grinning and watching the door the slayer had slammed behind her. He lifted his hand to his face and licked it hand where the grip of Buffy's nails had drawn blood. He could win if he really put his mind to it. He didn't have to _say _he loved her, even if he thought it, right? This was going to be an interesting week, he felt sure.

**A/N: Please review and tell me if you're interested! Sorry it's short, but, don't worry, smutty times start tomorrow. And those of you who are reading my other fics, I'm still working on them.**


	2. Monday

Title: A Different Type of Stake

Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Rating: definitely M

Word count: 1,978

Summary: Buffy challenges Spike to go a week without telling her he loves her. To win the bet, she has to make him. Smutty, Spuffy fun with a touch of angst. Set S6 pre-"As You Were".

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns everything, including my soul.

**Chapter 2: Monday**

Buffy returned from her double shift at the Doublemeat late, tired and greasy. There was a note on the fridge that said Willow had taken Dawn to the Bronze. Buffy threw the Doublemeat medley she had brought home across the kitchen and into the trash. She was so sick of that nauseating greasy mess that she had so much to do with day in and day out. She trudged up the stairs and into her bathroom.

She turned on the shower and shed her clothes into a heap on the white, tiled floor, stripping off the sweat, oil and exhaustion of her day at work. The shower was hot and refreshing on her naked body, soaking out any dull, Doublemeat memories. She flexed muscles for what felt like the first time that day. She felt sure they were atrophying in the hell that was working in the fast food industry. She washed her hair, rubbing the fat from her scalp and scrubbing away where she felt like it had settled in her brain.

She got out of the shower and dried herself as she walked into her bedroom. Officially, it was patrolling time, so she chose her black leather pants from her closet. Unofficially, it was time to make Spike say he loved her and win the bet. For that, she chose a low cut pink top from the back of her closet. Last time she had worn it, Spike had remarked on its allure and ogled her chest; she had sworn not to wear it again. Tonight the game was different, she thought as she adjusted her outfit in the mirror.

She went to the bathroom to put on makeup and dry her hair. She looked at perfume as a final touch and then shook her head. Overkill. Vampires had a keen enough sense of smell as it was and Spike more than most. She left the house and headed for Spike's graveyard, applying her pink lip gloss.

Once just inside the gate, she saw three vampires, game faces on, approaching menacingly. She rolled her eyes as they surrounded her, growling. "This really gets old, you guys. The growling just makes you seem nonverbal," she said, matter-of-factly.

She dusted the first one quickly, and then two and three rushed her. She sent one flying with a well-aimed kick to the chest, while engaging the other in simultaneous combat. The cool air felt good as she fought them, playing a little to show off her technique. As the one she had kicked recovered to attack her again, she staked the other two in two swift, synchronized jabs, and they blew away in little puffs of dust. She smiled at the remaining vampire, who seemed put off by the sight and started to back up as Buffy moved to stab him with her stake. He was already dust when it touched him, however, and her hand was grabbed before her stake could enter another vampire chest. "You should watch what you're doing with that, pet. You could hurt yourself," the grinning blond vampire said, still holding her hand.

"Better than being an extra vampire in the slayer's favorite cemetery at night. I might get a little carried away some time and forget you're just a chip head." Buffy glared up at Spike. "I didn't need your help."

"Maybe I wanted to come out to see my favorite slayer in action. Or I just like dusting vamps now I can't bite humans, as you like to remind me so often." He put his other arm around Buffy as she looked up at him and bent his head down to her neck. "Although I also like to remind you that you're also not so human anymore," he said scraping his tongue and dull, human teeth over her neck as her body shuddered in response, "so you might still have to be careful with me."

Buffy grabbed the peroxide curls at the nape of his neck and tugged. "I'm not a monster like you, Spike," she said, holding his face at eye level.

The vampire grinned. "Don't downplay your dark side, love. That's what makes this so much fun."

He leaned down to kiss her and she kissed back, hungrily. Their tongues dueled for dominance as their mouths connected in a barely controlled frenzy. They didn't break off as Spike backed Buffy up against a tomb, lifting her up to sit on it to even out the height difference. Buffy paused, gasping to take a breath as Spike unbuttoned her jacket and discarded it behind him. He ran his hands up her now bare arms, leaving goose bumps in their wake, and cupped her face in his hands. She closed her eyes as her began kissing down her neck, unbuttoning the front of her blouse as his mouth traveled between her breasts and down to her navel. She reached down to his face as he was about to discard her top with her jacket. "What if someone comes by?" she hissed, arresting his movement.

"Oh, come on, slayer, who else but you and me would be out having fun in a graveyard at night? If we see any other vamps, we'll stake 'em before they can run back and tell their buddies what they saw, k?" He looked at her with taunting eyes. He pulled off her shirt when she let go of his face and stopped resisting. "Knew you wanted to see how much a cemetery really could be."

Unhooking her bra with the expertise of 70 years of practice, he put his perennially cold hands on her breasts, gently caressing her stiff nipples as she sighed with pleasure. He pushed her back onto the stone tomb, moving his mouth gradually down the center of her body, his hands tracing every contour until he reached the edge of her pants. Buffy kicked off her shoes as Spike undid her pants and pulled them off in one swift motion. He slipped one hand into her cotton panties and stroked her, feeling her softness and slickness. He smiled at her responsiveness to his touch and her accompanying sighs. "Ready for me, aren't you, my darling?"

He pulled off her underwear and spread her legs wide on the marble tomb. She had thrown her arms back behind her head, naked and vulnerable, willingly opening herself up to him; her eyes were closed to revel entirely in feeling. "Don't worry, slayer," he said, "I can still make you scream with all my clothes on. And I don't mean in fear."

His voice had lost a little of its cockiness as he absorbed the beauty of her, nude and glowing white in the brilliant moonlight. He leant his arms on the top of the stone slab, wrapping them around her legs as he dropped his head between her legs. "Hello, Goldilocks," he said, before sliding his tongue over her clit, licking and sucking as her whimpers turned to moans to ragged cries. He could taste her particular sweet flavor as his tongue explored every fold and crevice, but focusing on her most sensitive nub. He watched as her breasts and nipples first relaxed in pleasure and then hardened as she began to climax.

Waves of pleasure flowed through Buffy as Spike's mouth rhythmically swept her clit, focusing her entire consciousness on the awareness of sensation. She tingled in pleasure, unable to control her exclamations, yet still aware of the cool night air, the coarse marble beneath her and the fact that she was in a graveyard, exposed to any passerby. A crescendo of feeling crashed over her as she arched her back in harmony with her instinctive, visceral response, letting out a final moan. Her breath came rough and uneven as she rested on the tomb, momentarily exhausted. Spike moved up and propped himself over her, still completely dressed, including his signature black leather coat. Buffy surveyed his outfit. "You're wearing a lot of clothes for sex," she said, her voice coming out a little muzzy, but relaxed.

"Well, you're not wearing so much for a graveyard at night, you know, love." He leaned down and kissed her rosy mouth.

Her strength was coming back to her and she sat up. "Well, we should at least be on equal footing," she said, reaching around to pull off his beloved jacket.

"Yes, ma'am," Spike said, standing up and pulling his black shirt over his head as Buffy fiddled with his belt buckle. She pulled of his boots and then his pants, leaving him as naked as she was, every muscle molded and visible in the strong moonlight. She kissed him roughly, putting her hands on his shoulders and directing him against the tall grave marker of Meredith Lovell, beloved sister, 1881-1946. She felt his penis harden as she pressed against him. When she separated her lips from his and he looked at her questioningly, she said, "How else am I going to get you to say it? I also take a bet seriously."

Her fingernails scraped fiercely down his chest as she knelt down. She held Spike's eye as she took his cock in her mouth, her lips and tongue feeling velvety soft and warm, sending shivers of pleasure through his cold body. He leant against the headstone, giving himself over to her mouth, her tongue, her fingers. He loved that here were the same lips that spilled so many cruel things to him, at night sending uncontrollable thrills throughout his body and working to bring him to paroxysms of joy. In a final surge of ecstasy, he groaned, "Oh, Buffy," and her mouth filled with chilled, salty semen. She swallowed with purpose and stood up look at Spike. She loved that she had the power to turn the strong, caustic vampire weak and quivering with the power of her tongue only. Maybe that wasn't what the slayer was supposed to defeat vampires with, but Buffy liked to capitalize on the capacity in any case. She put her hands on his solid chest and looked into his face, his eyes still unfocused. "How're you feeling now, Spike?"

He grinned at her. "You're a goddess, Buffy." He leaned in close to whisper in her ear, "But you're going to have to try a little harder than that if you want me to say it."

She looked at him coldly, but didn't step away. She felt him hardening against her once again. "Feeling the advantages of being with a vampire, are you, love? Ready for a proper tumble?"

He tried to wrap his arms around her, but she pulled away. She went to gather up her clothes and started putting them on. "Oh, come on, Buffy, there's time for one more?" She pulled up her pants and zipped them up. "What am I supposed to do about this, then?" he said pleadingly, pointing to his stiffened penis.

"Don't tell me you can't figure that out, Spike. I'm sure you've been doing it for more than a century," she said, putting on her jacket and buttoning it up.

"Fine, then." He put his hand on his dick in front of her and started rubbing. "You know who I'll be thinking about though, pet."

"You know the right words to make me come back, Spike."

"I know the right words to make you come anywhere."

Buffy didn't respond. She walked past him out of the graveyard, looking back at him just as she passed. She smiled to herself as she walked away. "You might want to check out your ass, Spike," she shouted back to him.

He twisted and bent his head to look down. When he had adequately contorted himself, he saw large, relief letters spelling "Mer—dith" backwards on his ass. "Bloody hell," he cursed to himself, left alone, naked, and aroused in the middle of the moonlit cemetery.

**Hope you like the first real installment! I'd love to hear your feedback, so please review :). There will be a chapter for each day of the week, so get excited. Unfortunately, I probably can't churn them out that fast, though I will try.**


End file.
